


The Last Chill Before Spring

by Bawdes



Category: Changeling: The Lost, Faerie Folklore, Original Work, World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst, Angst and Romance, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Boys Kissing, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Changelings, Childhood Trauma, Fae & Fairies, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gay Sex, Historical, Historical Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Kissing, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Love, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, Male Homosexuality, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Relationship(s), Romance, Scottish Character, Scottish Folklore & Mythology, Sexual Content, Strangers to Lovers, Supernatural Elements, Trauma, Victorian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:09:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29532483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bawdes/pseuds/Bawdes
Summary: Set in a fictional Victorian setting. The story revolves around two young men in Scotland, and follows them through their budding relationship - in a world that challenging enough for two men in love. Soon, however, it becomes clear that they both are more than meets the eye.Alternate universe with some magical/supernatural themes (low fantasy).(NB! Tags may be added as story develops.)
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 7





	1. Their First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> _Sentences written in cursive outside of dialogue is a character's inner thoughts, unless otherwise stated._

Another day, another few schillings. Matthew sipped at his beer at the local pub. He was in Glasgow now. As a restless wanderer he had travelled all across the British Isles in search of the next good time, and the next cold pint.

The locals were almost always the same. Working men, like him. Only difference was that Matthew didn’t have a group of friends to join as he entered. Always the newcomer. Barely managed to form friendships before he was on his way to the next job, the next quaint town or bustling city. Tonight he wanted peace and quiet, so he had put himself in the most isolated booth in the entire pub.

It was a Friday, so Matthew didn’t bother to look up when he heard a ruckus coming from outside. It’s Friday, after all. He resonated, before he emptied his glass. He didn’t even flinch as the door bust open behind him, and hurried steps approached the bar – which was for the moment untended.

The hurried steps changed direction, towards Matthew’s booth, before suddenly, a stranger plopped down in front of him. It was a man, wearing a cloak, which he quickly dismissed, and tossed over at Matthew’s side of the booth.

For a man wearing a cloak, he had oddly recognizable characteristics, Matthew thought to himself. But then again, maybe that’s exactly why he needed to wear a cloak. He looked to be about Matthew’s own age – his early or mid-20s. Despite this, the stranger had shock-white, half-long hair, and was generally pale. 

“Pretend we know each other.” The stranger hissed at Matthew, with a thick Scottish accent.

It was more a hissing plea than a demand really, and Matthew shrugged as he stared down at his empty glass. “It’s your turn to buy.” Matthew remarked casually, seeing an opportunity to get a free pint out of the bargain, while also playing his role. 

The stranger quickly slipped a hand in his pocket, and tossed a few schillings in Matthew’s direction.

Despite the pints being only a few pence, Matthew nodded in thanks, and got up to order. When he returned to the booth with the two pints, he noticed that the stranger was hogging his empty glass. _Whatever suits him_ , Matt thought as he placed the pints on the table and sat down.

“So. How was work? I think I must’ve shovelled 10 wheelbarrows’ worth of shit today.” Matthew shared casually.

The stranger locked his ice blue eyes with Matt’s for a good few seconds, before he burst out into laughter. “Same here, brother. At least it feels that way.” The strange lifted his glass, and invited Matt to a toast. “It seems like it’s calmed down now, though. I think they might have lost my trail. My name’s Ewan, by the way. But if strangers are asking, it’s Ronan.”

“Noted. Name’s Matthew, but Matt for short if strangers come asking.” Matthew nods while revelling in his own brilliant comeback. “So who’s chasing you? The brothers of a girl you treated wrong? Tax collectors? The husband of a woman you seduced?”

Ewan chuckles. “I sense a theme here. Speaking from own experience?” He takes a big sip of his pint.

“I might.” Matthew shrugs nonchalantly – or at least whatever passes as nonchalant in Matthew’s rather unsubtle body language.

Ewan smirks and shakes his head in disbelief. “Neither. I’m afraid my personal life isn’t as interesting as yours. Though, I might be able to help if you’re currently having trouble with any of the above.”

“Seriously?” Matt snorts. “You could fix the English tax collectors for me?” He cocks an eyebrow, looking at the newcomer with both disbelief and curious interest.

“I might.” Ewan retorts cheekily.

*

It took barely a week before Matt received a letter from the tax collectors, simply stating that his debt was cleared. It surely was a weight off his chest. As soon as the letter was read, he was determined to thank Ewan for the help. He had the name of an Inn where Ewan was supposed to be staying, and with a little bit of luck, he’d still be there.

Matthew bent down to look himself in the mirror with a sigh. No matter how much he tried to get his matted brown hair to lie down properly, it would never stay in place. Not even with products, which annoyed him. _I suppose I’ll be permanently messy-haired then_ , Matthew sighed as he stared into his hazel eyes. As he straightened back up, he bumped his head in the wooden ceiling beam that stretched across the room. _Ugh! I never get used to these Tudor-fucking-rooms!_ Matt cussed internally. But to the room’s defence, Matt was a tall man, standing nearly 2 metres tall barefoot.

He had been a lanky and gangly teenager - but as he entered early adulthood he had filled out his shape a bit more with long, lean muscles. He was a handsome man by all accounts, but his size and relative attractiveness would also attract a fair bit of unwanted attention: Mainly from other young men, feeling threatened by his presence. 

And a big man has a big appetite. The Bed-and-Breakfast where Matt was currently staying had regretted to inform him that they’d have to charge him an additional schilling, so he wouldn’t eat them out of the house. Matt didn’t contest this. He knew that most guests didn’t devour the amounts of eggs, bread and ham he did. He had no qualms about it.

After having his fill of breakfast, and making sure that his messy hair was within reasonable bounds, Matthew headed outside. Now he were to find the inn Ewan was currently was staying in, by the name of The White Stag Inn.

After some helpless aiming, and some helpful pointers by passer-by’s, Matt found the part of Glasgow where he presumably would find the mysterious Ewan. Though, it did surprised him that it was in the more poor and run-down part of the city. He didn’t really know Ewan, but he had gotten the impression that he had money to stay someplace better – at least judging by his decent clothes, and generous tip for the beer.

Matthew politely declined the advances of two “working ladies”, before he found himself standing in front of The White Stag. The place looked like it had seen better days. The windows were filthy, you were completely unable to see through them, and there were all sorts of shady-looking characters lurking around the entrance. Still, the sight didn’t put Matt off as he headed inside.

After a quick exchange with the innkeeper, Matt was pointed in the direction of Ewan’s room. He was glad that Ewan was still checked-in, meaning he hadn’t made this rather uncomfortable trip in vain. He knocked the door optimistically. No reply. He knocked again; a little bit harder. Still no reply. It was 11 o’clock. By all reason he should be awake. Matt pounded the door with his fist one final time.

“Who is it?” An annoyed and muffled voice replied from within.

“Matthew.” Matt replied cautiously.

“Oh!” The voice replied, clearly more chipper now. “Come in!” 

Matt opened the door carefully, and soon found himself a bit surprised at the scene he was taking in. In front of him sat Ewan. The young man was on a chair in front a mirror, chest bare, with shaving foam slathered all over his cheeks and his chest.

“Please close the door behind you, will you?” Ewan utters with a stiff expression as he takes the razor to his face, carefully shaving the stubble away.

“Y-yeah, sure.” Matt mutters, closing the door behind him. Fair enough the man was shaving, but he’d never seen a man shave his chest before. What sort of vanity was this?

“I’m afraid I don’t have much in term of chairs in here, but you could sit down on the bed if you wish.” Ewan continues as he shaves, continuing onto the other side of his face.

Matt casts a glance at the bed. It was made to perfection. It almost felt like a crime to sit down on it, but still he did.

“For what do I owe the pleasure?” Ewan sighs as he cleans off his smooth-shaven face. His chest was next.

“Oh, err.” Matt scratches the back of his head. “I got a letter from the taxman. It said my debts were settled.”

“Oh, how wonderful. Congratulations.” Ewan hummed as the razor scraped against one of his pecs.

“No, eh-.” Matt sighed. “Thing is-. I didn’t clear the debt myself. Now – last we met you jested, saying you’d fix it for me. But I didn’t take it seriously.”

“Why?” Ewan retorts with a deadpan expression, looking at Matt through the mirror.

“Why?!” Matt laughs at the ridiculousness. “Well, you were a stranger I just met, and I didn’t mean to ask you seriously to clear my debts! I mean," Matt pauses to gather his words. "I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I am grateful. But what does this mean? Do I owe you something in return now? Or-. I just don’t quite understand _how_ you did this and why you did it.” He sighs.

The hand holding the razor halts for a moment, before Ewan resumes shaving his chest. “Well. You did me a favour too that night. Don’t forget that. It was probably not a big thing for you - but trust me when I say clearing your debt was not a big thing for me either.” Ewan gives Matt a crooked smile through the reflection.

“Huh.” Matt ponders for a moment. “Well thank you. I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” He clears his throat. He doesn’t want to come across as rude or invasive. Still, he looks up, meeting Ewan’s icy gaze through the mirror. “Sorry if I’m out of line by asking-. I don’t mean anything by it. But-. Are you some sort of criminal?”

At this, Ewan laughs. He laughs heartily, and for a good long while. The young man wipes off his pale, shaved chest with a towel, and turns around in his chair to meet Matt’s gaze proper. “And what if I was?” He teases.

“Not much.” Matt replies in all honesty. “It just made sense in my mind, I suppose.”

After a moment’s consideration, Ewan presents a confident grin. “I like you, Matt. And to answer your question: To some I might be, but generally speaking, no. I’m not a criminal.”

Matt nods thoughtfully. “Thanks. I like me too.” He smirks at his own retort. “Listen, I don’t really have many friends in town, and I’m missing the company of other people. Would you join me for a pint tonight?”

Ewan’s cocky grin softly disappears, as if he looks at Matt in a new light. “Yes, Matt. I’d really like that. “


	2. A Pub With Windows

For the sake of pleasant conversation, Matt and Ewan sought out a slightly nicer pub than The White Stag to share a few pints. The one they settled for had clean windows, for one, and the local patrons consisted of mostly peaceful, tired working men. The décor was simple, and conversations buzzing – no sign of rowdiness or discontent.

Ewan sighed as the two sat themselves down in a booth, running a tired hand through his fine, white head of hair _._

 _How does his hair fall back in place so effortlessly?!_ Matt made a dissatisfied grunt to himself, before his lips found their way back to his refreshing pint.

“So, Matt.” Ewan looks down into his pint as he speaks. “What’s your story?” He meets Matt’s gaze. “However much you’re comfortable sharing, that is.”

After a long moment’s consideration, Matt licks his lips. “I’ll tell you how I ended up here in Glasgow. But then you must tell me why your hair is white.” Matt grinned.

“Deal.” Ewan agreed. “You first.”

Matt gathered his thoughts for a moment, sipped his beer, and cleared his throat. “All right. I originally come from England, as you probably can hear from my accent.” Matt quickly got an attentive nod from Ewan. “And my older brother was meant to inherit the farm I grew up on, so I had to find my own line of work. My original plan was to work on a boat. Sorry, a ship. The risks are great, sure – but the pay is good. A few years out at seas, and I’d probably have earned enough to buy myself my own little plot of land and start farming.” Matt sighed. “Well. Didn’t work out that way. There were some unexpected events that knocked me completely out of my boots.”

“Hm. I figured.” Ewan remarked to himself, no more than a whisper.

Matt didn’t pay the comment any mind. “So, to make a long story short, I guess I’m trying to ‘find myself’, as the rich folks say.” Matt chuckled bitterly. “And since then, I’ve wandered from place to place, looking for work. That’s how I eventually ended up here.”

“So, have you?” Ewan smiles cheekily.

“Have I what?” Matt’s brows furrowed slightly.

“Have you found yourself?” The pale man teases.

“In reflections; mirrors and such, I suppose. But not in the deeper sense, I think.” Matt takes another sip of his beer.

Ewan lets the moment settle, before he opens his mouth to speak. “Well. You have delivered, as will I. You wondered why my mop is white.” Ewan’s eyes grow distant for a moment, before continues, his voice lowered. “I served in the wars. The Anglo-Egyptian wars to be specific. I can tell you more of it if we’re in private, but to make a long story short: The grisly sights I suffered there changed me. Even to the roots of my hair. I left Scotland with straw blonde hair, and returned with it glacier white.”

“So, you’re a veteran?” Matt pondered. Not many where he had grown up had enlisted in the military. And he associated being a ‘veteran’ with older, often limbless men begging for coin in the towns.

“I suppose I am, technically. Although I could be called in again, though I doubt it unlikely at this point. And for that I am thankful.” Ewan lowers his voice further. “I never want to do something like that ever again.”

Matt did get the sense that there was more to this story – but to be fair, there was more to his own story too. Some discussions weren’t meant to be had in public. To speak out against the Crown’s warfare was deemed unpatriotic by many, so most would avoid doing so in public. Matt respected this, and nodded solemnly.

“Damn, this turned real depressing, real quick.” Ewan chuckles, finishing his pint before signalling the barkeeper for two more. “Any sweethearts left behind?”

“Eh…” Matt shrugs. “There have been some here and some there. Nothing serious though.”

“Hence the ‘protective brothers’ and ‘jealous husbands’ you mentioned earlier?” Ewan cocks an eyebrow. The barkeeps bring them another few pints. 

Matt chuckles at that. “Pretty much.” He relents, slightly embarrassed. “Not two of my proudest moments, I’ll admit.” 

“Is that a ‘thing’ for you, or?” Ewan continues. “Some men like the chase of taken women-.”

“No!” Matt bursts out a bit too loud. A few other patrons cast a lazy glance over to their booth, before returning their attention to their own drinks. The alcohol was loosening up both Matt and Ewan’s inhibitions.

Matt lowers his voice again. “No.” He adds, laughing. “It’s just that-.” Matt sighs. “I’m a _simple_ man, okay?” Matt gives Ewan an apologetic shrug. “And women are very pretty! I’m just delighted whenever they seem interested in me. I don’t ask them whether they’re married or have over-protective brothers? That would completely ruin the mood!”

Ewan buries his face in his hands, laughing. He laughs in both admiration at Matt’s honesty, and the ridiculousness he presents. “Yeah, yeah. Sure!” The slightly inebriated man snorts and chuckles, before looking up to meet Matt’s gaze. “That would ruin the mood? As if her brothers beating you to a pulp wouldn’t ruin the mood! Or a broken marriage?” The blue-eyed man shakes his head, still laughing.

“See?!” Matt retorts in earnest, gesturing at Ewan with a winning smile. “That’s what a _sensible_ man would think. But I _never_ claimed I was sensible!”

*

After an undocumented number of pints, the two men stumble out on the streets of Glasgow. It had long since gotten dark, and it took them a moment to familiarize themselves with the streets. A few other drunkards stumbled out of the pub behind them, almost toppling over Matt.

“Oi! Watch it!” Matt barks, and one of the drunkards grunt in return, before stumbling down the street.

Ewan looks around at the darkened street, only lit by the dim streetlamps. He shrugs. “Well, Matt. This has been nice. Thanks for tonight, I really enjoyed the company.”

“Yeah.” Matt agrees. “Just too bad you have to go back to your shithole.” He immediately regrets his blunt remark. To his relief, Ewan laughs.

“It _is_ a shithole.” He admits. “But unfortunately, that’s safest for me at the moment.”

Matt didn’t quite understand why that would be safer, but guessed this was one of those things you don’t discuss out in public. “Well, I can recommend The Golden Cock, if you need a new place.” Matt snickers as he utters the name out loud. Here, the name in itself was quite innocently referring to a golden rooster – but everyone knew that a certain body member shared the same “beloved” nickname.

“I’m sure you can.” Ewan raises a brow at Matt, and chuckles a bit. “So that’s where you’re staying then?”

“Yeah. There’s not too much space under the ceiling, though, I doubt you’ll suffer from that.” Matt retorts cheekily, pointing out that he was half a head taller than Ewan. Though Ewan was tall himself, he couldn’t match Matt.

“I’ll get you for that one.” Ewan points a finger at Matt and smiles, before he slowly starts moving in the direction of his inn.

“Oh yeah?” The inebriated Matt replies confidently. “How, exactly?”

“You just told me where you’re staying, farm-boy!” Ewan remarks with a laugh as he drifts off into the night.

“Oh. Right.” Matt scratches the back of his head, before he too heads back to his own inn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will likely be changed up a little bit in the next chapter ^^


	3. The Golden Cock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, we get some Ewan POV.

The casual evening spent with Matthew had left Ewan in somewhat of a personal dilemma. While working, he made it a point to never make any personal connections for his own pleasure. Usually he’d decline politely, maybe make up some convenient excuse, and frankly never see the person again. Still, when Matt had asked him out for a few pints, he had accepted. He didn’t even accept by accident – he thought it through, and _then_ accepted. _A moment of weakness? Or is this… loneliness?_ Ewan made a grimace to himself as he walked down a darkened cobblestone alleyway. He did not like the thought of that. _Loneliness? Ugh._

He didn’t understand the feelings he harboured. His instincts were telling him to turn around, and go back, but his rational mind wanted to fight these feelings. Rationalize them, label them and put them away. To admit to loneliness was like admitting defeat. _But why? It’s hardly my fault for being lonely. Or. Or is it? Or wait. Is this something else?_

Matthew, the English stranger, of all people he had felt kinship with a bloody ‘ _Sassenach’_. A pleasant man, Ewan admitted to himself as he crossed a street – but still so very different from himself. Matthew struck him as a man who’d speak before thinking, or even sometimes act before thinking. Still, he was also refreshingly honest about his own shortcomings, and had wit in his remarks.   
Even in terms of appearance they were so different. Ewan, with his white, straight hair, sharp features and pale skin looked more like a ghost. Matthew was tanned, with wild brown curls which shifted as soon as you blinked. Ewan chuckled to himself – their differences were like a caricature.

Ewan could walk away now, and forget about Matthew forever – like he had done with so many other strangers in his time. Or… He could take a chance. Maybe forge an actual, meaningful friendship. Or… Ewan didn’t want to admit the next thought to himself. He clenched a bony fist.

Right in front of him, a small lantern lit up a sign: “The Golden Cock”. Ewan stopped dead in his tracks _. No. How is this possible?_ He looked to the sky, as if to look for a sign. Primarily a sign that he had lost his sense of direction, but a divine sign wouldn’t be dismissed either. The cloudy sky above Glasgow revealed no secrets, and Ewan sighed. _Fine. I’ll do it._

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this nervous. The innkeeper seemed a bit puzzled by Ewan asking for one of his guests at this hour, but Ewan dropped a little lie about bringing news about a sickly relative. The innkeeper bought it, and pointed the direction to Matt’s room.

Standing in front of the door, Ewan took a deep breath, focusing. _I belong,_ he repeated to himself internally, and in the next second he was no longer nervous. He was in control. Before knocking, Ewan listened carefully at the door. _Snoring? All the better._

 _He didn’t even lock his door?_ Ewan cocked an eyebrow, before slowly pushing the handle down. The snoring was frankly louder than he had anticipated – even if Ewan had the stealth and skill to make himself practically disappear in the night, it would all be wasted on the oblivious, yet peaceful sleeper in the bed. Matt grunted and smacked his lips in his sleep for a second, before the snoring resumed. Ewan closed the door behind him quietly, and sat down in the chair next to Matthew’s bed. _If I’m unlucky, or if I scare the living daylight out of him, I’m in for a beating of a lifetime._

*

Matthew had never had any trouble going to sleep, unlike many people. In this regard, he had always been blessed. After getting cleaned up for the evening, he climbed into bed – not knowing anything about the rich and conflicting inner life of the stranger he had met earlier. As soon as the head hit the pillow, he was off to dreamland.

Yet, something stirred him awake during his slumber. The smell of smoke? The sound of a matchstick igniting? Matthew scrunched his nose before opening his eyes. Then, he froze dead in place.

In the darkness before him, sat the silhouette of a man, patting a smoking pipe gently. It took Matthew a second to recognize the features of Ewan, but when he did, he promptly picked up his pillow to fling it at the intruder. Not in aggression, but rather annoyance. And to further Matthew’s annoyance, Ewan dodged the incoming missile gracefully.

Before Matt could say anything, Ewan spoke up. “I’m sorry for the cloak-and-dagger.” Ewan picks up the pillow and hands it back to Matt, before he ignites the small lamp on the bedside table. Matt blinks, adjusting to the light. “What I wish to ask of you, I couldn’t ask out in the open.” Ewan smacks his lips at the pipe for a moment, before handing it to Matthew. “Try if you wish. It’s a special blend of mine. It dulls any pain, and makes you more relaxed.”

Matt accepts the pipe, but not before shooting Ewan a suspicious glance. He brings it to his lips, and smacks it thoughtfully, taking in the smoke. Very soon, he feel all discomfort vanish, his shoulders lowering – just the sense of gentle relaxation.

“Forgive me if this is too forward, and too presumptuous.” Ewan apologizes, before looking Matthew directly in the eyes. “I was wondering if you would might like to have some _fun_?” Ewan’s gaze quickly dropped to Matt’s big hands, before returning to meet his gaze. He was indeed in for the beating of a lifetime if his assessment had been off the mark.

After a pregnant pause, Matt relaxes back into his pillow. “You know, I’d like that.” Matt simply smiles, as if this wasn’t an issue at all to him. As if two men having sex were the least of his worries in this Victorian day and age. A part of Ewan suspected that this wasn’t a side-effect of the pipe, but sooner a part of who Matthew was.

Matthew scooted further into bed, making room for Ewan. In turn, the white-haired man stood up from his chair, before slowly undressing. His clothes were meticulously folded, before they were put away neatly on the chair. Ewan stood naked and confident in full view in front of Matthew, before he blew out the lamp, and climbed into bed next to Matt.

They kissed for the very first time then. Matt’s hairy chest brushed against Ewan’s smooth-shaven one. Matt’s stubbled cheeks, against Ewan’s smooth ones.

They were two lonely men, soon to delve into a world of carnal delights which were forbidden in the world they lived in. And yet, Matt’s initial thought was: _Wow. He really does have white hair everywhere._


	4. A Second Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're about to introduce our first supernatural element to the mix.

It had been a long, luxurious night. Ewan couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed as he did right this moment. Normally, he’d be gone by now – he would’ve snuck out in the early morning hours; maybe left a note if he felt like it. And yet he was still here, still naked, still laying next to a softly snoring man whose foot was dangling off the edge of the bed. Sure, there were things Ewan wanted to discuss with Matthew - but right now he was just revelled in the warmth that radiated from his bedfellow. He enjoyed how the other of Matt’s strong legs had lazily draped across Ewan’s. Ewan sighed in content.

Suddenly, Matthew’s hand starts twitching in small, jittery motions. He was still sleeping, no doubt. _Maybe he’s dreaming?_ Ewan pondered. Next, Matthew’s restful face turns into a frown – and then the frown turns into a snarling grin. Matthew’s nose twitches as he exposes his teeth to Ewan.

Although Ewan initially wanted to laugh, the sight of the much larger man showing signs of aggression in his sleep also made him vary. He reaches out his hand, gently caressing the now snarling man on his cheek. “Shh…” Ewan croons. “You’re dreaming.”

To his surprise, Matthew’s ear moved a little. _What?!,_ Ewan blinked. From beneath the messy curls, poked a pointy ear tip. It was pink and healthy – human in every regard apart from the fact that it was unmistakably pointy-tipped, and could move. Ewan blushed in embarrassment. _Was I really too busy getting laid to notice that my lover was a… - is a…_ Ewan sighed. _Ah, no matter_. 

Matthew’s eyes slowly blinked open. His snarl was now gone, and as soon as he spotted his bedmate, his face cracked into a happy, drowsy smile. Ewan had forgotten that his hand was still lingering on Matthew’s cheek. He withdrew the hand quickly, blushing in slight awkwardness.

“Hi…”, Matt sighed in blissful content, before he sleepily pulled Ewan into his strong embrace.

Ewan did not resist. His head slotted in so naturally under Matt’s chin, and the fair-haired man had to admit that it was indeed quite comfortable to be nuzzled up against Matt’s coarse chest hair. Matthew’s heartbeat was strong, slow and steady; threatening to lull Ewan back to sleep again. _Is there really no hidden agenda with this man? He’s genuinely just a lonesome wanderer who just wanted some company? He even showed me trust when I asked to sleep with him, knowing it’s not only illegal, but punishable. And now he’s cuddling me? No theatrics - just pure, clumsy, tired cuddling?_ Ewan pondered, while his arm subconsciously draped around Matt’s side and started scratching the tall man’s back.

Matthew groans in comfort as Ewan’s long fingers scratch so satisfyingly against his skin. He kisses the top of Ewan’s head in gratitude. “I love back scratches.” He sighs in content, his voice rough from sleeping. “Oh, just a bit more to the right, please.” The big man hums. “Did you sleep well? …I’m sorry if I took up too much of the bed. I do that sometimes. I know I move a lot in my sleep.” Matthew mumbles against Ewan’s white hair.

Ewan chuckles and tilts his head back to meet Matthew’s gaze. His eyes were a beautiful hazy green, big and… _honest_. “I did sleep well, thank you. And no worries. ‘Enemy lines’ were not breached.” Ewan shoots Matthew a smile before he scoots a bit further up in bed to be on a level with Matthew. His hand wanders to scratch Matt’s neck and scalp. Matt’s turn lidded in response. It was clear that he liked this, while struggling to keep eye contact with Ewan. “There’s something I want to ask you.” Ewan sighs, hoping he’s not about to ruin the mood.

“Ask away” Matthew purrs, barely managing to keep his eyes open.

“I had some suspicions last night, that you were different; like I am.” Ewan swallows. “And I couldn’t help but to notice your ears, which confirmed my suspicions.” He exhales. _I hope he will take this well._

Matthew’s drowsy gaze seems to be processing what Ewan is saying, before he returns a confused expression. “You can tell people’s sexual preferences by their _ears?_ ” 

Ewan’s surprised expression turns into laughter; a long and heartfelt laughter. “No!” He chuckles, giving Matt’s hair a ruffle. “I mean, I can _see_ your ears. What they truly look like. Pointy.” Ewan looks at his bed companion in honest admiration. “But I would’ve liked having that ability; judging someone’s sexual preference by their ears. Would’ve saved me for a lot of grief and trouble up over the years.”

Matthew’s gaze sharpens, meeting Ewan’s directly. “You can _see_ them?” He holds his breath. “Like they really are?”

“Yes.” Ewan nods. “Pointy, but fleshy pink. Human in all regards except their pointy tips. And the fact that you can move them like a cat or dog does, of course.” He states simply.

Matthew’s ears subconsciously perk up in surprise. “That means… You’re not _human_ , are you?” Matt gives Ewan a scrutinizing look. “Your hair is white from shock, you said. Was that a lie? Are you a-.” Matthew didn’t dare say it.

Ewan gives Matt a sympathetic look before he withdraws his hand from Matt’s hair to give the big man some ‘space’. “No. That was not a lie.” He explains patiently. “It’s not visible on me. I suppose you could call it ‘luck’. I have no physical signs that would give away the fact that I am a… changeling. Like you.’ Ewan gives Matt a moment to let the new information sink in. “Of course. Had I not been a changeling – or a _fae_ – I would not have been able to see your ears as they truly are. Would I? They would look completely human to me.” Ewan thinks for a moment. “Or I suppose some very few humans can see our true nature. But they are incredibly rare. Even more rare than us, I believe. Here, let me prove it to you; that I am like you.”

The pale man sits up in bed. He looks around for a moment, before he notices a glass of stale water that has been forgotten on Matt’s bedside table. “Ah, perfect.” He takes the glass in his hands, and sticks his finger in. The tip of Ewan’s long finger stirs around on the water’s surface in a strange motion, before the water suddenly freezes to ice in an instant. Ewan turns the glass upside-down quickly to prove that it’s not just an illusion. Not a drop emerges, and the ice luckily stays in place. “Now you have ice.” He remarks, before putting the glass back on the table.

“Huh. Look at that.” Matt nods gently in recognition, his shoulders lowering. “Thank you. I mean-. You’ve probably heard the old story of what happened that time humans found out we exis-.”

Ewan interrupts Matthew with a gentle hand on his cheek. “Yes. No need to explain. I would’ve been just as careful. It’s hard to know sometimes. Especially with the ones that are like me – with no physical signs.” Ewan settles comfortably back into bed, head on the pillow.

“Yeah.” Matthew agrees, leaning on his elbow. “Some of us you can spot 100 yards away with their flames-for-hair, or green skin.” He chuckles. “Then you have those who are like me, with some noticeable traits that you can, or can’t, hide that easily. Like ears or eyes that are different. Or tails or whatnot. And the near-invisible ones, like you.”

“Guilty as charged.” Ewan hums, looking up at Matt who’s drifting into his own thoughts. “Does this… change things for you?” Ewan reluctantly asks, searching for clues Matt’s gaze. “In regards to what we shared last night, I mean. I can completely understand if this adds more complications for you to consider. Suddenly, what could’ve been a simple one night-“

This time it’s Matthew’s turn to interrupt Ewan. The tall, gentle man leans down over Ewan to plant a soft kiss on his lips, effectively shutting him up. “No.” Matthew smiles against Ewan’s lips. Their noses touch, lips brushing gently against each other as they speak. “You sound like a man who think too much, Ewan.”

“I think for a living. I can’t help it.” Ewan relaxes under Matt, revelling in the soulful gaze the gentle giant presents him.

“Do they pay you pr. thought? If they do, I suspect you’d be rich by now.” Matthew teases, effectively earning a pinch in the side from Ewan.

“Say less, kiss more.” Ewan looks up at Matthew with a defiant, yet affectionate expression.

Matthew grins, before he brings their lips together in a series of increasingly hungry kisses. _The man has spirit, I’ll give him that_ , Matt smiles to himself before pulling the duvet back over them both. An indulgent day in bed awaited them. 


	5. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: This chapter contains references/implications of non-consensual sex/rape of a minor, and references to abusive relationships.

Matthew was deep asleep.

In his dreams he wandered back to his youth, back to how thing used to be; before everything changed. He was back in his childhood bedroom, back under his safe duvet. But he was not alone, he noticed. There was a sizeable protrusion on the duvet, right next to him. He lifted the duvet to the side to reveal his youngest sister, Johanna. _She could only be about 5 or 6 in this memory. How I miss you, little one_. Matthew smiled. As he was dark, she was light. Her blonde hair and blue eyes were a contrast to his – and the two were thick as thieves. She’d always come snuggling in the mornings, when their parents had gotten up to work, and Matt would use it as a blessed excuse to sleep a bit longer. Next to his bed lay her discarded toy – it was a “mouse” made by a pinecone and nut shells. She would drag it along wherever she went by the help of a little piece of string. Sometimes the cat would chase it, causing some distress, but it always worked out in the end.

Matthew woke up from his memory. Sunlight radiated gently through thin curtains. No one lay next to him in bed - it was empty. It had been a blessed five days together with Ewan in Glasgow, but eventually Shaun had to get moving to his next job. He had had some conflicting emotions about leaving, but the arrangements for the next job had already been made in advance. Besides, Matt couldn’t allow himself to run out of money by frequenting inns without working for too long.

Ewan, on the other hand, had said that he needed to leave soon too. Matt recalled how it had been hard to get any details out of him. In the end, without really giving any particulars about the nature of his work, Ewan had admitted that he wasn’t sure where he’d go next - and that it wasn’t entirely up to him. But when they eventually had to part, Ewan had given Matt his pipe, along with some of that special tobacco of his. Matt treasured it, and hadn’t dared have any of it since they parted. That was three days ago.

Matthew recalls how Ewan had looked him in the eyes with such gently sincerity as they parted, “I’ll miss you, Matthew. Truly. I’ll miss your company,” he had said. Such simple words, but Matthew had felt the significance behind them. Although they both had wanted to kiss each other goodbye, they couldn’t. They’d done their goodbyes in public, which Matthew regretted. It wasn’t planned – it was simply how it happened. _Still not so sure you’re not some kind of criminal_ , Matthew smiled ruefully as he felt how empty the room was all of a sudden.

As his thoughts started drifting, Matthew felt conflicted. As much as he cherished the time he and Ewan had spent together, it had only been months since he exited his last relationship. A destructive one at that. Maybe it was just as well that he and Ewan had to drift each their different ways? Matthew rightfully wasn’t sure whether he would be ready for a new relationship yet. Though, his heart was hungry. He’d admit to that. But his heart had been hungry since long before his last relationship. Matthew sighed. _What an absolute shitshow that was_.

Undressed, he crept up to the window above the bed and pushed the curtain out of his eyes. _So this is Falkirk, huh?_ , Matthew rubbed his eyes as he soaked in the sun-drenched view of the quaint village. His next job was a fair walk from here. Matthew’s stomach rumbled. _Well. Better get moving._

*

In a bed somewhere else, Ewan had also summoned memories in his sleep, but his were nowhere near as pleasant as Matthew’s.

He was standing in a richly decorated, but darkened hallway, in front of a heavy, polished wooden door. It was late. The chandeliers and lamps were all extinguished for the night – the whole house was sleeping. He felt his limbs; long, awkward, nervous and jittery - not fully grown yet. _I always hated being a teenager_. His hand was shaking as he knocked on the door. Fear. Guilt. Dirty. _I don’t want to do it_. Despite Ewan’s wishes, the hand knocked on the door. A muddled, feminine voice replies from inside. _I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to remember_. The smell of alcohol and tobacco hit him as the door opened, and a half-naked woman greeted him. _You’re over thrice the boy’s age - have you no shame!?_ Her details were blurred; her face was obscured by repression. She was wearing only a dressing gown. Barely. The front was open, revealing her cleavage. It was clearly meant to be a tantalizing display, but to young Ewan it was not. It was terrifying; forbidden and part of a world yet unknown to him. He refused to look down, knowing that he’d see what was most private. The most sinful. The thing he shouldn’t see. His polite upbringing left the young boy in the most difficult dilemma, forcing him to stare her unwaveringly in the eyes. _Please, don’t tell me to come in._

“Just as ordered,” the words rolled of her tongue as she grinned enthusiastically. Her eyes trailed across his young body. _No. Turn around. Go away. Don’t believe her! No!_

“I’m so glad you accepted my offer, sweet young man. This will be for the benefit of us _all_.” The inebriated lady reaches out a hand and grabs young Ewan by his tie, before pulling him into the smoke-filled room. _‘Young man’?! He’s a boy!_ He hears the door shut and lock behind him.

Ewan gasps as he jolts awake in bed. He’s drenched in his own sweat, his heart racing. Wide open eyes scour the room, before he slumps back into bed. _I’m safe. I’m an adult. She’s not here. I’m safe_. A surge of emotion well over him, and the exhausted man buries his face in his pillow to let out a strained sob. Despite being awake, and despite knowing this happened many years ago, his body remembered it all too well. It would make him still feel so small, so weak, so helpless – so bound by societal rules he wasn’t allowed to break under any circumstance. Eventually, the feelings subsided. He was back in his bed. He was a grown man now, strong; able to defend himself both intellectually and physically. The feelings of helplessness and powerlessness were replaced by anger – an anger directed at both himself and his assailant all those years ago.

Ewan got out of bed with restless motions. _Better get moving_.

*

After a big breakfast, Matthew hit the road – a rucksack on his back, and his trusty sixpence to shield his eyes from the sun. He was lucky to catch a ride on a farmer’s cart some of the way, but now he was back on foot. Everything went swimmingly until he found himself at a road branch he hadn’t planned for _. West, the letter said_ , Matt reminded himself, looking at how the road branched out into two partitions, both going west, but at different angles. One slightly northwards, one slightly southwards. _Damn. Just my luck._

Matt searched with his gaze to make sure he was alone on the road, before he looked to the sky. “A sign would be nice. I mean, if there’s anyone up there!” He chuckled a bit at his sense of humour, before he shrugged. There were no houses around, no one to ask; he just had to make his best, uneducated guess. _That one_ , he finally decided, going with the one slightly to the south.

Ironically, this small hitch made his thoughts wander back to his late ex again. While Matthew had been with his fair share of women, and enjoyed it, his last serious relationship had been with a man. It wasn’t a sane choice by any means; to be with a man and risk persecution, when he had the option to be with women. But you don’t get to choose who you fall for. The heart wants what the heart wants. _And sometimes the heart wants fucking poison, I guess_ , Matthew made a grimace to himself as the distance travelled grew behind him.

 _The choices he presented me with were hopeless too. I was always bound to fail. Damned if I did, and damned if I didn’t. And he always tugged on my heartstrings to get me back, too. He knew how infatuated I was with him, and he used it. Abused it_. Matthew stopped for a second to take a deep breath. He didn’t need to wind himself up just now. _The road ahead. I’m looking for a farm with a red barn and white barn door. Focus, Matthew._

Matthew’s eyes and focus were back on the road ahead of him. His thoughts strayed to his immediate surroundings. He had to admit to himself that this was a scenic piece of land. On one side of the road was a light forest of lush, leafy trees, and on the other side was a green field. _That will yield lots of delicious food for the critters, come winter_. The sun was high, and the weather warm. Matt’s lips were getting parched. He wouldn’t mind finding a stream or a cottage just about now, so he get some water.

Then, some distance ahead of him, he noticed a couple of small figures squatting by the roadside. _Kids. I can’t be too far away from civilization_.

Matthew made sure to not look as tired and uncomfortable as he felt, when he approached the two. It was no use scaring them off, after all. The two small shapes turned into two boys, probably around the age of 10, inspecting a frog they had found. Both of them sporting home-made bowl cuts, as kids often did; one of them with a mop of brown, and the other ashen blonde. One of the boys held the small amphibian in his hands, careful to not let it escape.

“Hi, there.” Matthew announces his presence. “Could you kids point me in the direction of a stream, or somewhere I could get some water?”

The boys gasp in surprise as the strange man breaks their immersion. They jolt up on their feet, facing Matt with big eyes. In the slight confusion, the frog escapes its prison, and jumps merrily into the tall grass. “Oh no!” the brown-haired boy exclaims. “We’ll never find him again now!”

“Err… sorry about that.” Matthew scratches the back of his head. “Perhaps if there’s a stream nearby, you could find another? Frogs, like me, do like water.” He attempts a smile.

“Sure,” the ashen-haired boy shrugs, giving his friend a look. “I’m sure we can help you find water.”

The brown-haired boy nods to his friend, before turning his gaze to Matthew. “We can help you, sir. But it’ll cost you.”

Matthew laughs. “Sure! I think I might have a sweet or two in my pockets somewhere.”

“No,” the ashen boy replies firmly. “We only deal in cold, hard cash, my friend. Five pence. Take it or leave it.”

Matthew blinks in astonishment. _Are these village boys or thugs?_ “Five pence! That’s robbery!”, Matthew grunts. “I’ll give you a penny each – and that’s more than enough.”

“Fiiine.” The brown-haired boy reaches out an unimpressed hand.

Matthew grumbles as he pulls his small leather pouch from his pocket, and picks up two pennies. “Here. Two pennies. Now you boys better bring me to a water source.” 

As he places the two pennies in the brown-haired boy’s palm, he feels something be snatched from his grip. The next second, he sees the ashen boy, holding his pouch, sticking his tongue out at Matt. “Catch me if you can, dimwit!” The ashen boy teases alongside his friend, before both boys bolts off in the direction of the forest.

“You little shits!” Matt hisses as he rushes after the boys into the forest. “Give me back my money!”

Despite his lean build, Matthew was a remarkably strong man. But also despite his lean build, he was no racehorse. The two boys were so much smaller than him – able to run under low-hanging branches and through bushes without much trouble. Matthew, with his size and unaccommodating rucksack didn’t stand a chance. Suddenly, he feels his foot catching something, and he falls forward. His head hits a rock, and a twig pierces his skin as he lands. Then it all fades to black.

*

Ewan had been on the road for most of the day too, but unlike Matthew he had a horse. The sun was setting, it would soon be dark. His work was done for the day, and Ewan contemplated whether he wanted to ride on, possibly in the dark, in search for an inn – or whether he should make camp somewhere. Luckily, he was prepared for either option. He had provisions and a big bedroll, and as a former soldier he was used to sleeping rough. “What say you, Miss? Do you want to go on, or are you tired?” Ewan pats the mare gently. The horse which flicks her ears upon hearing her master’s voice. She was a fine beast with a beautiful grey coat, sporting lighter socks and mane. She nickered, and Ewan noticed she was slowing down a little – in caution.

Ahead of them, he spots a figure by the side of the road. It looked like a beggar; his head hanging low, and his back supported against his few belongings. _Poor sod_ , Ewan thought to himself. _I can spare some food if he’s hungry._

As he brought his horse to a halt in front of the stranger, Ewan’s brows furrowed. _…Isn’t that-._ “Matthew? Is that you?” He asks in disbelief.

“Hm?” Matthew grunted as he tilted his head up to face the voice. His right brow and temple was swollen and blue from where he had landed on the rock. He was filthy from dirt and grass, and he had several visible cuts, crusty with dried blood. Luckily, the cuts didn’t look too big.

“What on earth happened to you?!” Ewan jumps off the horse to kneel in front of his battered and bruised friend. “You need to get those wounds cleaned, or else they’ll get infected.” Ewan searches Matthew’s gaze; it was glossy, a bit far-away.

“Some kids got the better of me.” Matthew grunts, but can’t help but to smile just a little bit at the fact that Ewan was sitting in front of him. “You followed me, didn’t you?” He grins sheepishly.

Ewan had to chuckle at the bizarre sight. Here he was, battered and bloody, and despite that Matt managed to muster some affectionate appreciation. “…Weren’t you supposed to go to a farm outside of Falkirk?” Ewan shakes his head.

“Yeah, that’s where I’m headed.” Matt nods confidently.

“Matthew…,” Ewan explains patiently. “This road is leading back to Glasgow. Or Falkirk. Depends on the direction you’re going.” Ewan pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket, and rubs some of the dirt off of Matt’s face.

“Oh…” Matthew’s shoulders slumped. “Fuck.”

“Well. I’m glad I found you, regardless. I need to tend to those wounds of yours. Can you ride?” Ewan looks at Matthew’s glossy eyes. _I need to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion_. 

“My good sir, you of all people should know I can ride.” Matthew replies cheekily.

Ewan sighs, but can’t force the corners of his lips to stay down entirely. _I definitively need to get his head checked_. “Ok, come now big boy. You get up on the horse, I’ll lead.”

“Yes sir.” Matthew salutes, before he stumbles onto his feet. He near loses his balance, but Ewan is quickly by his side to support the tall man.

“Let me know immediately if you feel nauseous, or your head starts hurting more.” Ewan looks worriedly up at Matthew before he takes the reins, and leads the animal into motion.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll let you know, don’t worry.” Matt makes a dismissive motion with his hand.

Slowly but surely the two men progressed forwards, as the darkness slowly surrounded them. With some luck they’d reach a house before Matt or the horse got too tired to travel. If not, they’d have to manage in the wilderness. _What would you have done if I hadn’t come along?,_ Ewan shuddered at the thought, tugging the reins a little firmer as their two figures disappeared into the dark.


	6. Some TLC

Matthew blinked awake. The heat and light from a nearby fireplace radiated towards him. Matthew groaned. Looking into the light was painful, and made the headache even worse. He rolled onto his back for relief, staring up at the ceiling. _I’m in a bedroom_ , he pondered, exhausted. _I don’t remember how I got here_.

It was a decent bedroom. The furniture was simple, but of a good build. Matthew was lying in a double bed, facing a dresser on the opposite side of the room. On top of the dresser was a mirror, but it hangs too high for Matt to see himself in the reflection. _Probably for the best_. The curtains were drawn, but he could tell it was night. Apart from the fireplace burning there was no other light source.

There were voices coming from another room. They were low, gentle. Matthew listened patiently. He couldn’t make out the words, but one of the voices were Ewan’s. _Ah, yes Ewan. He must’ve taken me here_. The other one was harder to make out, but it sounded …old. It had that fragile pitch old voices often have. _An old woman?_ Matthew wondered. He felt so tired all of a sudden. Achy, worn, tired.

 _All I wanted was just some damn water_ , he sighs before he drifted back into sleep.

When Matthew wakes up again, Ewan is sitting fully dressed right next to him on the bed. His figure blocked out the direct light from the fireplace, for which Matthew was grateful.

With a tired hand, Matthew reaches out to touch Ewan’s back. “Where are we?” His voice cracked a bit. His mouth was dry like cotton.

Ewan immediately looks over his shoulders, sighing in relief. “In a cottage in the middle of nowhere. While on the road, I spotted a small light between the trees – a sign of people. We had to go off on a small trail for a little bit. You were confused and talking nonsense. I didn’t want to risk travelling any longer,” Ewan pauses, “You had me real worried, Matthew.” Ewan’s gaze doesn’t break Matthew’s.

 _He means it_. “Damn. Must’ve hit my head harder than I thought. But to be frank it does feel like a horse trampled me over. Head’s pounding, even looking at the fireplace hurts. And I’m parched.” Matthew sighs, but doesn’t have time to continue before Ewan is back on his feet.

Without a word, the white-haired man pulls a chair up to the fireplace. He promptly takes off his jacket, hanging it over the back of the chair. It casts a soothing shadow over the upper-half of the bed. From the bedside table, he picks up a glass of water, bringing towards Matt’s lips. “Here you go,” Ewan soothes. 

“Please, I’m not an invalid,” Matthew grunts as he makes a motion to sit up in bed. A jolt of pain arches through his body, his head pounding wildly in response to the sudden movement. Matthew winces in pain, before he slumps back into the pillow. “On second thought… I might be.” He pants, before he allows Ewan to help him with the water. He gulps down the entire glass, and even then, he doesn’t feel sated.

“I’ll get you some more.” Ewan gently wipes away a few stray droplets. “I’m relieved to hear you being of sound mind again.”

“Huh. Few have ever said I’m of a sound mind”, Matthew licks water off his lips, cracking a small grin.

“You’ve been robbed, you’re beaten half to death, you have a concussion, you’re dehydrated; and still, you crack jokes.” Ewan can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it.

Matthew’s grin widens a little bit, his tired ears perking up in appreciation.

Ewan can’t help but a smile, shaking his head. “I’ll go get you more water. And then I’d like to check your wounds again.”  
  


A few more glasses of water, a little bit of food, and some meticulous wound-cleaning later, Ewan is finally able to join Matthew in bed. He doesn’t quite dare to snuggle up against Matt, but under the safety of the duvet, their hands find each other. He smiles softly when Matthew squeezes his hand in response.

“So, I forgot to mention that there’s a kind, old lady living in this cottage.” Ewan whispers out into the dimly lit room. “Her name is Olivia, a widow. I have promised to compensate her for her kindness. It pains me to say that we’re in her bedroom now, but she insisted on it when she saw the state you were in. She has one of those benches that turns into a bed in the kitchen, and she swears it’s comfortable. So, she’s sleeping in there.” Ewan sighs.

“Oh.” Matthew felt a pang of guilt. He didn’t like the thought of forcing a poor, old woman out of her own bed. But then again, he hadn’t really had much of a say in the matter. “Hopefully we won’t have to stay long?” He turns his head to look at Ewan. His neck was stiff and sore, and Matthew grimaced in response.

“Well,” Ewan sighed, turning to meet Matthew’s gaze. “You have a concussion. We might get you out of old Olivia’s hair, and into an inn when you’re well enough to travel, but not yet. I don’t know for sure when that will be. But let that be my worry. In the meantime, I’ve promised to help Olivia out, out here. I’ll cut wood, get water – I’ll help her with all the heavy stuff.”

“Hm.” Matthew exhales. _I’m useless. I don’t like being useless_.

“What’s that grumpy expression?” 

Matthew realizes his ears laid flat, and that his nose was scrunched. He immediately relaxes. “I don’t like being so dependant on others. And I don’t like it when people have to give up their comfort to look after me. Least of all an old lady. She should have her own bed.”

“Matthew,” Ewan closes his eyes and faces away again, exhaling in content. “Let’s agree to argue about it tomorrow, okay? I need sleep, and you need sleep too.” _And with some luck you’ve forgotten about your scruples by tomorrow._

“Fine.” Matthew relents, closing his eyes. As usual, sleep came easily to him.

*

Matthew did in fact not forget his scruples, but faced with the infuriatingly calm reasoning of dear Olivia, he remained installed in her bed for the time being. The lady might be old, but she was by no means helpless.

While Ewan was out chopping wood or fetching water, Olivia doted on Matthew. She absolutely admired how the young man would practically lick his plate clean no matter what she served, and she’d happily shuffle back to the kitchen to make him more food. She adored the company, and in the evenings she and Ewan would share a kettle of tea together, while Matthew had a nap.

It took six days before Ewan deemed that it would be safe to travel to the nearest village with Matthew. Matthew still wasn’t well, but he was well enough to travel. Under no circumstance should he do any physical activity or labour. Matthew wasn’t enthusiastic about the restrictions, but he was relieved to no longer be taking advantage of Olivia’s hospitality. Still, there wasn’t a dry eye amongst them, as they parted with her. In the few days they had with the elderly lady, they’d gown fond of each other, and both Matt and Ewan agreed they’d come back to visit her someday.

Eventually, they reached the quaint village of Bonnybridge, where they frequented the local inn. This trip would normally have taken 30 minutes on horseback, but it had taken Ewan and Matthew one and a half hours to get here. Matthew’s head started hurting again just as they entered the village. Had they left a day earlier, Matthew might have gotten unwell sooner.

As soon as they were safely installed in their modest, but clean room, Ewan pulled Matthew closer. Finally, they were alone. Finally, they could be sure they wouldn’t be disturbed. 

“When we parted, I said I’d miss you, truly.” Ewan looks up to meet Matthew’s gaze. “You know I meant that, right? There were more things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t-.“

Matthew envelops Ewan gently in his embrace, before he pulls him in for a gentle kiss. As much as he was nervous for what Ewan might say next, he wanted to enjoy this moment. “I regret that our good-byes left something to be desired too.” Matt whispers against Ewan’s lips. He takes Ewan’s hands and guides the pale-haired man with him towards the bed.

Ewan cocks an eyebrow. “No physical activity.” He retorts.

Matthew only chuckles as he sits down calmly on the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to him invitingly. “I didn’t mean it like that. There’s something I want to be honest about.” Matthew sighs, he felt nervous, but it had to be said.

Ewan felt his stomach drop, but kept his composure. _What is it? Are you married? Have I been sleeping with a married man? Are you already in love with someone else?_ While his thoughts were chaotic, he displayed a calm demeanour as he sat down next to Matthew, awaiting his next words patiently.

“I, eh-.” Matthew grumbled, feeling uncomfortable. “I loved someone, a while ago. It ended badly.” Matthew looks at the floor as he speaks, although he could feel Ewan’s piercing gaze from his side. “I don’t love him anymore, so don’t worry about that. But-.” Matthew sighs. “These things are complicated. I’m still hurting, I guess. And even though I want to throw myself at you, and let myself drown in every affection you’d give me, I don’t think that would be fair. Not fair to you, I mean. I might not be able to give you what you might need from a lover. Not yet, at least. And I don’t know when I’ll be ready for that. For the bigger stuff.” Matthew finally manages to meet Ewan’s gaze. To his surprise, Ewan is smiling softly.

After a small pause, Ewan speaks. “Not to diminish your struggles, but for a split second I feared you might be married, or already in love with someone.” He chuckles a bit before his expression softens again. “We’ve only known each other for a short while. But I think it’s safe to say we enjoy each other’s company. Whatever this is, and whatever we may want it to be, I’ll be happy to take it in your pace.”

Matthew looks visibly relieved, his shoulders relaxing as he lets out a long exhale. He nods.

Ewan reaches out to take Matt’s hand in his. His were tanned, big, rough and calloused; his were pale, slightly smaller, nimble, yet also calloused. “And if you want to talk about what you went through, I’d be more than happy to listen. In any case, I’d like to get to know you even better, Matthew. And it so happens to be that we have many days at our hands now – with your concussion.” Ewan gently leans down to undo Matthew’s boots, before he gently pushes the big man to lie down in bed. He draws the curtains – and while they’re not thick enough to expel the sun, they do dim the light in the room.

Matthew knew there was no use resisting Ewan’s coddling at this point, but he dares himself to caress Ewan’s cheek as he leans over him to get the curtains. “I’d like that. And I’d like to get to know you better as well. We didn’t really get into the really personal stuff in Glasgow.”

Ewan leans into Matthew’s caress with a sigh, and thanks Matthew with a kiss on the caressing hand. “I’m glad.” He whispers, before he makes himself ready to climb into bed next to Ewan.

“Can we be naked?” Matthew looks up at Ewan.

Ewan shoots Matthew a glance. _No physical activity_.

“Not like that.” Matthew replies as if he read Ewan’s thoughts. “I’d just like to feel your skin against mine again. I’d just like to hold you, is all.” Matthew’s voice was soft, and his gaze soulful and genuine. “We haven’t done that since Glasgow.”

Ewan melted. “Yes. Yes. Of course, we can.” He whispers, before he leans down to give Matthew a heartfelt kiss.


	7. Nursing Back to Health

“So, why do you shave your chest?” Matthew mumbles against said chest, while rubbing a big finger against the small, white stubbles.

Ewan ponders for a moment, his hand lazily stroking through Matthew’s unruly hair. “I was about to list hygiene, but that’s untrue. I simply like the way it looks on me. So, to answer your question; vanity, I suppose.”

“But you seem to like my chest hair?” Matthew wonders, smoothing his hand over Ewan’s lean, sculpted chest. 

“I do.”

“Why on me, and not on yourself?” The taller man inspects his own chest for a moment. He was generally hairy on his chest, thighs and calves. It was not as much the density of the hairs, but rather their dark colour which left him looking like a lumberjack poster-child. His beard was infrequently shaved too, often leaving him sporting a scruffy look.

“First of all, it shouldn’t matter to me what you do or do not do in regards to shaving. My key concern is that you’re doing what makes you feel comfortable with yourself.” Ewan smiles, withholding a chuckle. “…But with that being said, it suits your aesthetic very well in my opinion.” He scratches Matt’s scalp gently. “If I grow out my chest hair and sport a beard, I’d look like a starved Father Christmas.” 

Matt sighs, but chuckles lazily at the mental image. “I’d like to see that.”

“I’m sure you would.” He sighs in content, closing his eyes. “So. You mentioned your ex-lover was a man. Are you strictly interested in men, or do you like women too?”

Matthew’s gaze sharpens as he thinks. “No, I like women too. My first serious relationship was with a woman.” He sighs. “I loved her. I wanted to marry her. …But those plans had to be scrapped when I was _taken_. Upon returning, my family had buried me, thinking I was dead. I couldn’t just walk up to the door and knock, exactly.” Matthew pauses. “I had just seen my own grave. I questioned reality. …I decided to turn around and start a new life for myself.”

Matthew shuddered. The memory of how he was taken flashed before him. A curious shape in the heath, in the forest. A beckoning sensation. Suddenly a fall and tumble into the brambles. The thorns cut him, he felt a tiny fragment of his self shattering. Then suddenly, he was somewhere strange and unnatural. These memories were vaguer; A place where time and physics made no sense. The feeling of always being watched. Matthew abruptly snapped out of his thoughts. 

“…I’m sorry.” Ewan whispers softly.

“It’s okay. It’s been years now. I’ve come to accept it,” Matt settles more comfortably against Ewan’s chest. “How about you? Only men?”

“No, same as you actually. But… I prefer men, I think. My relationship with women is a bit… complicated.” Ewan thinks for a moment. “But I was actually married, before I was taken.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“No worries, it is all in the past. I’ve made a new name for myself, and I’ve been relatively successful. I can’t complain.” Ewan assures Matthew. “…Matthew? Is it okay if I ask you about your abilities? Just in broad strokes of course. I’m just curious.”

The nature of a changeling’s magical abilities was considered somewhat private by many, even amongst changelings, as exposing their abilities could potentially weaken them against an opponent. Matthew knew this all too well. Since all changelings can possess wildly different, but restricted, magical abilities, they would often need to rely on the element of surprise to save themselves from harm. If everyone knew each other’s magical abilities, the scheming would never end. Changelings are just as prone to love, jealousy and hatred, as humans – not to mention their individual morals. After all, changelings used to be human, before they were “taken”. 

“Sure.” Matthew perks up. “I have keen senses. If I concentrate, I can increase my perception – and particularly my sense of smell. I’m fairly decent at healing too, but nothing extraordinary. And eh,” he pauses for a moment “I can turn into a dog if I wish to. Though, I haven’t done that since I escaped. And I don’t mean to brag, but I’m strong.”

“Wow,” Ewan nods, genuinely impressed. “I can only imagine what I would use those abilities for, though I am quite happy with mine. As you might already have guessed, many of them are winter-related. Freezing liquids, creating chills, and the like. But other than that, my abilities are more on the subtle side.”

“Ah. You mean you fuck with people’s heads?” Matthew’s nose scrunches, his thoughts drifting to his ex.

Ewan laughs a little. “You make it sound so crass.” He relents. “Well, I suppose. Though, I do refrain from any ‘mind-fucking’ unless there’s a matter of grave injustice, injury or death. Besides, it’s not as if I can control anyone’s mind like a puppet. Thank god I can’t. If I concentrate, I can mostly just read a very few selected thoughts. The deeper I try to go into someone’s thoughts, the harder it gets.”

Matthew visibly relaxes, but is still vary. “Have you done any of that on me?”

“No,” Ewan answers truthfully, kissing the top of Matthew’s head. “That’s not how you make friends with someone. I would not do such a thing to you without your blessing or consent.”

Matthew nods reassured, before wrapping a strong arm around Ewan’s torso.

“Unless,” Ewan adds. “- you were in danger, and your life or health depended on it.” 

“Fair enough.” Matthew shrugs, thinking to himself. He was tempted to ask the exact nature of Ewan’s mind-reading abilities, but he decided against it. He’d learn in time if he and Ewan ended up spending more time together. It was a matter of trust. “You know. The fairy tales got changelings all wrong.”

“Hm?” Ewan looks down at Matthew, who was currently mapping his side with his hand.

“In the fairy tales, the changelings are what’s left in the crib after the evil fae have kidnapped the babe.” Matthew shakes his head. “First of all, I haven’t met a single changeling who was taken as a baby, maybe as child, but not as a baby. Secondly – the changeling is the kidnapped child – not the replacement they stuff in the crib. The kidnapped child turns into a changeling, after being tampered in-, “ Matthew lowered his voice, “- Faerie. The thing they leave behind in the crib is something else entirely. A mockery of humanity.” Matthew frowns.

“Hm.” Ewan listens thoughtfully to what Matthew said. He sensed there was something personal attached to this, but he didn’t wish to pry. All changelings had their very own story of how they were taken or disappeared as humans. And each got their own ‘replacement’, most of the time. This replacement, your mock-self, or ‘decoy’, was a physically similar copy of the human you were; scraped together by whatever magic and materials the abductor, the fae had at hand. They would usually share your memories and personality, too. That way, no one would notice the _real_ you you went missing. Still, there were reports of people finding these replacements just a bit “off”; that mothers, fathers or siblings sensed that something wasn’t quite right about the ‘new you’.

Most of these ‘decoys’ would often perish within a hours, days or weeks – either through sickness or accidents, making your relatives grieve your loss. Meanwhile, the poor abducted human, now slowly turning changeling in the magical realms of Faerie, had no one coming to look for them. No one ever knew they had disappeared, let alone that they still were alive. 

“You know… Babes are sometimes taken, even though you’re right; not as many as the stories make it out to be. But the reason why you’ve never have met a changeling who was taken as a baby is…,” Ewan hesitates, “Because in order to escape Faerie, …in order to make it back to the realm of the mundane, you need to possess at least one memory from this earth. Babies aren’t…” He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Matthew stops his motion for a second, before he continues. “I hate the fuckers. I hate _them_.” He didn’t want to say their name. It felt like if he said it, he risked summoning one of them. The _True Fae. The High Fae._

“I know,” Ewan whispers, before scooting down in bed to lie on a level with Matthew. The two men gaze into each other’s eyes. “How did we get from the lovely topic of ‘women’ to this?” He chuckles.

Matthew smiles in response, before he leans in to place a gentle kiss on Ewan’s lips. “My head feels better today. My neck isn’t so stiff.”

“I’m relieved. Maybe we can try for a walk tomorrow if it continues?” Ewan mumbles as he pressed against Matthew in a warm embrace.

“Tomorrow.” The dark-haired man agrees, before he gently dozes off, with his lover in a protective embrace


	8. Departure

In total, Matthew and Ewan spent one and a half week together at the inn. During that time, they got to know each other better.

Ewan shared that he had originally been born a Lord’s son, and had been expected to inherit the title. He had married his childhood best friend at 18, and together they had produced a daughter, Gwyn. However, shortly after his daughter was born, Ewan was called upon by the army – serving as part of a Highlander battalion in the North of Africa, mainly Egypt. Ewan struggled to share many details about his time overseas, but he revealed to Matthew that he witnessed a massacre performed by the British that would change his views of the British Empire forever, and left his hair stark white. Had he not been sent home after that incident, Ewan confessed that he would likely have deserted. 

The war-scarred, young man returned to Scotland depressed, traumatized and with tremendous guilt. Upon arriving at his home, his daughter had grown. She could now walk and talk to his amazement - but the little girl didn’t recognize the strange white-haired man her mother was embracing. To her, her father was a stranger. He had left when she was only months old, so she had naturally no recollection of him.

The effects of the war and trauma, and the realization that his daughter didn’t recognize him, near drove Ewan into a stupor. In order to stay afloat mentally, the young man buried himself in work, while refusing to speak of the war. This would sadly create a wedge between him and his wife, and didn’t create optimal conditions for his daughter to get to know him again. 

Ewan recalled that in the years before he was _taken_ , he and his wife lived more like roommates than spouses. The one thing that he and his wife would connect over was little Gwyn. He absolutely loved the little girl, but in retrospect Ewan realizes he was too filled with guilt to embrace his role as a father. He didn’t think he deserved it; both for having left her at such a young age, but also for the things he had seen and done during the war. He would admire his daughter from a distance, and attribute all her good traits to her mother.

Then one regular day, Ewan was lured into Faerie. While he was gone for approximately 2-3 years, time work different in Faerie - a near decade had passed in the realm Ewan was imprisoned in. Because this must also be understood about Faerie; it is a different plane of existence, and within this plane are an unknown number of realms. And each of these realms have their own nobility who can be considered all-mighty gods in their own realms; the True Fae. In Faerie you are their slave, lover, enemy, pet, décor; whatever they wish you to be. 

Upon escaping his captor and re-emerging in the mundane world years later, he returned home only to realize that his doppelganger, decoy, his mock-self was still around. To Ewan’s devastating realisation he observed that his mock-self was a much better father and husband than he had ever been. He witnessed “himself” playing effortlessly with his daughter, no longer a toddler, and treating his wife with the love and affection she deserved.

At first it had infuriated Ewan. He wanted to kill the monster that had “taken” his life, and was pretending to be him. …But in the end, his self-esteem got to him. He’d never be able to be a better father and husband than his decoy. It was a bitter realisation. In the end he justified it with the fact that his wife and child deserved it. They deserved a father and husband who prioritized them and managed to show his love for them. He could bear the pain of not being with them again, knowing they would be happier like this.

Matthew had been shocked and heartbroken at Ewan’s story. He couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like to return home to find that your family was happier with your replacement. Matthew’s story was a bit different, with a bit less detail, but still no less tragic than most changelings’ stories.

Matthew had only been around 18 years old when he was taken, and deeply in love with his first real sweetheart. Lily, was her name, and he had been prepared to propose to her. Sadly, on the day of one of their dates, he had subconsciously been drawn to the woods where he lived – until he wandered into the thorns and brambles, to find himself in Faerie. For years, Matthew had blamed his own stupidity for this, but in more recent time he had realized that it had been no coincidence; whoever had taken him, had _called_ him there. He hadn’t had a choice in the matter.

In common for both Ewan and Matthew, and most changelings, was that their memories from their time in Faerie were muddled. Most of the memories were impressions, feelings, and maybe a few flashes of imagery; but with a deep sense of eeriness, and the feeling that what they were perceiving was breaking their sense of reality.

Matthew, much like Ewan, had a less-than optimal reintroduction to the mundane world, after escaping. Upon returning to his home village, he stumbled upon his own gravestone. To his family, Matthew was dead and buried, not knowing the young man they had put in the ground wasn’t a person at all. His decoy.

After each their traumatizing and fae-infused returns as changelings, both Ewan and Matthew had been forced to make new lives for themselves. Matthew had spent the past few years lending his strength as a farmhand, while travelling the British Isles. Ewan opened up about having made some good investments, but Matthew sensed there might be a bit more to it than just that.

With over a week of careful walks, good conversation, and many warm embraces, it was time to pack up and move on – wherever that meant.

The morning of the checkout, both Matthew and Ewan packed their belongings in peace, while searching their own thoughts. Their initial meeting in Glasgow had been a coincidence. And their very first night together had been mostly filled with lust. Then came a few more days with humour, more lovemaking and gentle conversation. This second encounter – again coincidental – felt much more intimate. During these two weeks they hadn’t slept together once, and yet they both felt so much closer to each other.

To Ewan it hadn’t felt natural to initiate anything physical with Matthew being so ill for such a long while, but he was very happy to indulge in shared, non-sexual intimacy. It could be something as simple as being naked and vulnerable together in each other’s embrace, sleeping next to one another, kissing, and sharing impactful stories and episodes from their lives. Ewan didn’t realize up until now how starved he had been on this kind of affection. He didn’t want to let Matthew go off on his own after all they’ve shared. He wanted to hold his hands, he wanted to kiss him some more – he wanted to feel Matthew’s heavy body on top of his. _Am I greedy?_ Ewan sighed as he packed his final few belongings. 

Matthew gathered his toiletries in silence. His concussion had healed well, and he was back to being as physically fit as he was used to. These past one and a half weeks at the inn had been so wonderful. He didn’t have a good reason to stay anymore as he was healed – and he was penniless after being robbed by the kids on the road. All this time he’d been living on Ewan’s kindness, and it didn’t feel right. Although money had never been properly discussed, Matthew was adamant that he’d repay Ewan.

For some reason, Matt’s thoughts strayed back to his ex-lover again. Matthew had spent just under three weeks in total with Ewan, and still he felt like those three weeks had been more deeply personal and meaningful than his relationship with his ex, Calvin.

Memories started welling back. Unpleasant ones. Matthew recalled how Calvin never asked or suggested sex, but stated it as a fact or demand. Ewan had always asked – either with words or gentle gestures. And Calvin had never initiated cuddling. Intimacy would exclusively take the shape of sex with Calvin. _…Or maybe I was wrong to consider it intimacy? Maybe lust was all he’d cared about?_ He knew so very little about his ex’ background, and in retrospect it annoyed him. _How could I not see the red flags? I guess I was wearing pink glasses._ Matt sighed. Although he loved sex, he realized how much he had been missing some genuine connection. He had found that in Ewan. Sure, Ewan hadn’t told him everything about himself, but at least he was honest about that. Matthew didn’t feel Ewan held anything back out of suspicion or malice, but rather because it was sensitive or hard to explain. A final thought jumped at him: _Calvin would never have nursed you back to health from a concussion._ _He’d send you to a clinic, pat himself on the back for a job well done, and then shag someone else behind your back – never visiting you once._

There was a loud snapping sound, and Matt jumped out of his thoughts. Ewan turned at the noise too. In his hand, Matt realized he’d snapped his toothbrush in two.

“If you were that short on space in your rucksack, I’m sure I could help you with the logistics,” Ewan jests. “…Are you all right, Matt?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Matthew makes a dismissive motion. “I just wasn’t paying attention, is all.”

The room was tidied. Their belonging packed up. Ewan fiddled with the curtains, pulling them back to let the sunlight in. _Is he stalling?_ Matthew couldn’t deny that he too didn’t quite know what to say or what to do now. There was definitively _something_ between them, but it was so fresh and fragile still. Much thanks to himself, Matt acknowledged with a sigh. He had spoken his piece about not knowing whether he was ready for anything more. The ball was in his court.

“I owe you some money for this,” Matthew finally said, as he watched Ewan step back from the window.

“No, no, no. You were _robbed_!” Ewan pauses, meeting Matthew’s gaze. “I’ll hear none of i-“

“Listen.” Matt interrupts, staring intently back into Ewan’s eyes. “I don’t know if this is within your capabilities, and I certainly don’t mean to pry, but hear me out.” Matt takes a step closer. “I’m broke, right? If I show up at the farm where I had an agreement now - two weeks late - I’d probably be looking for a beating. I don’t know where to turn next, though I’ll undoubtedly find something. It always works out in the end.”

Ewan listens patiently. He leans against the wall next to the window as Matthew speaks.

“So, I have a suggestion. I might be completely off the mark. But here goes: What if you, for the sake of my pride and conscience, let me work for you. As means to repay you for your time and expenses. It would make me feel better. I can do most tasks – I’m strong, able-bodied, I get along just fine with people. You don’t have to tell me more about your work either; I know it’s secret. All I need to know is the task at hand.” Matthew licked his lips. He felt nervous.

 _Is he stalling?_ Ewan pondered. _Is he postponing our separation? Or is this truly a matter of his pride and conscience?_ Ewan couldn’t help but to produce a small smile at the prospect of spending more time together. He thinks for a moment, his smile fading a little bit before he speaks up. “I wouldn’t really be happy with that dynamic; and by that I mean I wouldn’t be happy with being your employer. We’ve…” Ewan sighs, looking for the right words. “We’ve been intimate with each other. I think too fondly of you to have you as an employee; to have you work _under_ me.”

“Huh?” Matthew meets Ewan’s gaze with an expression of confusion. He didn’t quite see the problem. “You mean you don’t wanna be my boss? That’s fine, we can call it something else.”

Ewan chuckles at the simplistic solution at first, but then it strikes him that it might not be such a bad idea. “…How about partners?” He suggests. “You’d of course be the junior partner, since you’re new to the business. I’ll discuss some things that needs to be done with you, and together we decide how we delegate the task. You won’t have to do anything that goes against your beliefs.”

“Sounds good!” Matthew nods in agreement, relieved that his plan seemed to be working. 

“Very well,” Ewan nods to himself. It had been a long time since had the personal responsibility for anyone but himself. “So. You help me with a task – and we’ll call it even? Are you comfortable on horseback?”

“Yes, and yes. It’s been some times since I was last properly on horseback, but I did grow up on a farm with horses.”

“Excellent. We’ll need to get you your own horse, and then we’ll turn our noses towards the Isle of Skye. How do you feel about that? It will be a long ride – take us several days.” Ewan’s gaze meets Matt’s.

“Isle of Skye? Never been. Heard it’s beautiful. I’ve nothing else on my calendar, so I should be fine.” He chuckles at his wit. Ewan joins in. 

Neither of the two men knew this about the other, but they both felt lighter after having made this agreement. They wouldn’t have to separate, not yet. They could spend more time together with the excuse that they had work to do together. And after that? Neither Matt, nor Ewan wanted to think about that just now. 


End file.
